Hiraeth
by Kiraeon
Summary: He didn't mean to, and that was why it hurt.
1. Dimitri

_**Part Two: Black Clouds.**_

_**Azure Moon**_

_Spoilers for Azure Moon route; this takes place in an ambiguous period either just before or just after Dedue's return. Yet another fic inspired by a glorious piece of artwork that inspired intense feelings. Check out the comic by Guessibetter on twitter __here__. _

He was more ghost than man.

They always pulled, pushed, and tore at his body. His face, eyes, hair- _all _of it. He wore the damned cloak not to ward off the ever-present chill but to give the damned spirits something to grasp other than his flesh. With every body to fall to his spear, to his bare hands, another voice and set of hands joined the shrieking choir that followed him everywhere. Always screaming, crying, _pleading _and accusing him at every hour, he could lose them only in the chaos of the battlefield where one scream blended into another until the blood roaring in his ears, his ragged breathing, and the clash of weapons were all he heard.

In battle, he would be rid of them. Only for a single blessed moment, but he would be himself and _only _himself for that moment. He clung to that respite and flung himself into one never-ending battle after another in search of it. After the last body hit the ground, their blood turning the earth a filthy color, the hands returned. They _always _returned to tear at him anew.

There were too damned many of them. They had him by the throat, their nails sinking into every exposed bit of flesh and wrapped around his limbs as though preparing to rend him to the pieces he left so many in. Their voices louder than they had been recently, the full hellish chorus mounting higher and higher until there was nothing he could hear or _see _but their faceless forms and incoherent roaring.

His hands against his skull did nothing to drown them out or diminish their cries. A crunch, dissonant against the unpleasant screaming, drew his attention. The edge of his vision caught movement- _another bedamned hand _reaching for him- and the sensation of breaking filled his entire being. A roar, loud and harsh, shredded his throat as it ripped from him and he _swung _with every ounce he had in him; those who would threaten him, spirit or not, would be met with lethal force.

Ghosts did not _crack _when struck.

His hand throbbed from the impact, bruised and somehow _not _a part of him anymore, Dimitri stopped in place. The hands vanished, the voices eerily silent save for a loud keening that shut itself off shortly after. He blinked once and Felix was there in front of him, his face a demon's mask of fury and fear and _loathing _with sword held in front of him as though he were going to strike. Dimitri couldn't hear the words but the tone was loud and clear as the killing intent radiating off of his former childhood friend.

The world swam. He blinked again.

The Professor, no, _Byleth _, lay just behind Felix's crouched form. Dimitri's good eye widened at the blood coating the too-still form. Too red, the blood was too red, too _vibrant _on his professor's fair skin and pale hair. He watched and waited for Byleth to rouse, to wake up and wince and wipe away the injury.

Byleth didn't move. He couldn't even tell if the professor was _breathing _.

Mercedes was there in the next blink of an eye, her habit and upper body blocking his view. He caught the briefest glimpse of her ashen face and the gasp that followed. He could feel as well as see the light from her Crest as she summoned her magic and threw herself into the healing.

Words failed him. No defenses or accusations came to his lips as a result of this unprovoked- _they _didn't see or hear _the damned spirits _\- attack. There were no enemies they could blame it on, there was no threat to their lives or his; just the Professor, just _Byleth _who'd been… who'd been…

His throat worked against the rising lump. Dimitri's eye moved to Felix when the man moved. An invisible blade sank and twisted in his chest. Anything would be better than the look on the swordsman's face in the moment before he heeded Mercedes' call; fury, hatred- _anything but what lay in its place _.

He watched, frozen in place, as they rushed the Professor to where the medical team was waiting.


	2. Felix

_**Black Clouds**_

_**Azure Moon**_

_Spoilers for Azure Moon and support routes. Please check out Guessibetter on Twitter's amazing comic; it inspired me to write this!_

He didn't mean to. 

They know that. They all know he didn't mean to hurt Byleth, that he never would have struck out like that had he known. They knew Dimitri didn't mean to- but seeing the way Byleth's head rocked back, the way they hit the ground, and the too red blood against the pale skin and hair was too much. 

The scream from… Annie or Ingrid, maybe one of the other women, still rang in his ears and was more than enough to propel him from his place.

Felix didn't remember moving, but he was there with his blade drawn and ready to cut him to pieces if he even dared set foot forward. His body between Dimitri and the Professors and any number of venomous somethings flung at the frozen man in front of him as loud and quick as they came to his lips. Felix would have rather the feral Boar remained thus; out of control. It was easier to hate him when he was acting like a man possessed instead of the broken boy in the body of a man. 

"Mercedes!" He bellows the sweet tempered healer's name loud enough to wake the dead and with a touch too much desperation for his liking. He knows from the way the shadows are thrown in front of him that Mercedes' Crest activated and she's pouring all she has into their professor. Felix is in the business of killing, not healing, and even he isn't sure just how much damage Dimitri caused with that one strike. 

Felix tells himself it's because Dimitri is still a threat. He can't look back because the pathetic bastard in front of him might lose himself to madness again and decide to finish the Professor off. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that seeing Byleth lying there is like seeing Glenn all over again. 

He sees the moment the madness releases Dimitri and the realization sinks in. Again, Felix tells himself it would be much easier to deal with the cantankerous bastard than what he sees in front of him. One blue eye, stark against the pale skin and dark shadows, looks to him and Felix's heart sinks; he knows what he's done, he didn't mean it and he knows they know he didn't mean it and it doesn't erase a single gods damned bit of what transpired. 

There is no one who knows Dimitri better than Felix and they both know that. Distant as they are from one another and have been since Glenn's death, there is still the foundation that never disappeared and it's that foundation, that pathetic lingering sentiment that forces Felix to stay and watch him turn into a shadow of himself. 

"Felix!" Mercedes' voice is thin and exhausted and anxious as she calls for him. Ingrid's voice joins in, just in case, and he tears his eyes away long enough to shout an affirmative and call Sylvain to aid him. He makes the mistake of looking back one last time and wishes there would have been an excuse to cut him down on the spot; all he needed was just one good excuse to end Dimitri's suffering as well as his own. 

Like their idiot Professor, however, Felix is soft and feels his face contort into something he has no name for at the haunted expression on his former friend's face. Whatever his face did, Dimitri's expression intensifies and he thinks there's something in the Boar Prince's eye that makes him incredibly uncomfortable. He can hear Annette nervously firing off whatever medical knowledge she's gleaned from the stacks she's poured over in the library in relation to head injuries to a weary but indulgent Mercedes, Ingrid, Sylvain, and whoever the hell else is willing to listen. 

He deliberately turns his back on Dimitri and dives in to help at Mercedes' direction; he needs to focus on the now instead of the man haunted by his failures. Every time Felix looks back, being careful to provide support as they transport Byleth off the battlefield, Dimitri's eye never leaves the Professor. 

Hating Dimitri would be so much easier if he didn't understand him.


	3. Indecision (Felix)

**_Part Two: Black Clouds.  
_****_Azure Moon_**

_Spoilers for Azure Moon route; this takes place in an ambiguous period either just before or just after Dedue's return. Yet another fic inspired by a glorious piece of artwork that inspired intense feelings. Check out the comic here by Guessibetter on Twitter: __here_

Byleth wakes up three days later with the world's worst hangover and no memory of the battle or the incident after.

Felix is a complicated mix of furious, incredulous, and relieved by the Professor's assumption that they'd simply fallen asleep again. True to his nature, he expresses this in the only way he knows how: by telling the injured Professor that the blow to the head must have knocked out what little common sense they might have had and storming out of the room. An hour or so later, he hears familiar footsteps approaching him in the training room and sees Byleth there, training blade in hand, and fights to keep a scowl on his face.

Felix has a matching bruise to the Professor's own blooming on his cheek fifteen minutes later.

Neither of them had noticed Ingrid until the bout was finished. The blonde noblewoman dressed them down without hesitation, flung something into Byleth's lap, called them both idiots and stormed off. Probably, Felix tells Byleth, to go make sure Sylvain was behaving himself.

Byleth nods in agreement and unwraps the parcel thrown into their lap.

Felix runs his tongue over his teeth to make sure none of them were knocked loose to be on the safe side. It was a _good_ hit he hadn't seen coming and he tells Byleth as such while the two of them cool down. Byleth, true to form, offers a nod and the barest upward turn of their lips to acknowledge the praise.

A moment later and he is given a cold compress twin to the one Byleth held against their own cheek. They sit in silence together, alternating keeping the compresses on and removing them, and watch the shadows creep across the ground. He's restless, growing more agitated the longer the silence stretches on and he keeps catching the flash of white wrapped around Byleth's head.

It lasts another ten minutes or so before Byleth asks Felix what happened three days ago.

Felix doesn't respond immediately.

He's torn between telling the truth; raw and cruel as it is- and if it were _Dimitri_ asking the same of him? He'd have let the man have it by now. Twice or even thrice over at that!- and an abridged version to spare the Professor what the rest of them were trying to come to terms with.

Dimitri sure as hell didn't _deserve_ this much thought put into his decision, and Felix knew he should just throw it all out there so that Byleth could understand just how far gone the Boar Prince truly was. That way the rest of them weren't alone in dealing with watching a hopeless man throw himself into every battle hoping it would be his last and pretending they were _fine_ with it. He says nothing still and stiffens when Byleth's hand gently-but-firmly guides his head to their shoulder and holds it there. Not restraining, he could break free and away at any could smack the hand away and demand to know what the hell the Professor was thinking. Felix closes his eyes and allows the hand, and his head, to remain where they are for the moment.

After some time, he sneaks a look up to Byleth's face. As usual, the bastard is hard to read; void of any readily apparent emotion and pale green eyes staring straight ahead.

"I see." Byleth says finally. They say nothing more than that and are content to just sit in silence with Felix's head on their shoulder.

His feelings toward the Professor are complicated with a capital 'C'. He isn't sure if it's intrigue and admiration toward the combat skill, prowess, and violent destiny that unfolded around them wherever they set foot, an attraction toward a keen mind and a body that wasn't half bad either, or some part of him that missed Glenn and was trying to project what he missed on to someone else. Could be all three, knowing his luck.

Byleth offers comfort without actually belittling him by offering it. He usually found comfort in clashing blades and physical training to beat it out of himself and others. Here though? They didn't feel the need to fill the emptiness with mindless chatter. Byleth didn't coddle or badger or pressure him into speaking. If he spoke? Byleth listened. If he asked a question? Byleth answered and countered with one in return to make him _really_ think about his position.

"I'm only going to say this once, understand?" Felix breaks the silence this time. "And this goes _nowhere_."

Byleth inclines their head in agreement and listens as the swordsman begins to speak.


	4. Byleth

**_Part Two: Black Clouds._**

**_Azure Moon_**

_Spoilers for Azure Moon route; this takes place in an ambiguous period either just before or just after Dedue's return. Yet another fic inspired by a glorious piece of artwork that inspired intense feelings. Check out the comic here by Guessibetter on Twitter: __here_

He wasn't in any of the usual places.

It should have been rather difficult to lose someone of Dimitri's considerable size, and yet the tall prince was beyond the curve when it came to skulking about unseen. The professor's foot taps against stone as they reflect on the list of places the blond man was typically seen. The Cathedral? Not there, surprisingly. Stables? Also not there. Training Grounds were absolutely out, Felix was still there and someone would have reported _that_ encounter. The Dining Hall was the last place to find him and thus out. He hadn't left the grounds either and hadn't been in his quarters for quite some time.

All evidence pointed to Dimitri sleeping somewhere _other_ than in his room and Byleth didn't particularly care for that.

Shielding their eyes against the sun, Byleth found their attention drawn toward the Goddess Tower. They frowned; it was quite a long shot but one worth looking into nonetheless. The tower itself wasn't visited frequently, in spite of the romantic rumors surrounding it, and while it boasted an impressive view of the monastery as a whole? It was a right pain in the ass to climb with several flights of long, winding stairs to get there. Few people had time or stamina for such a climb, and fewer still with a purpose to do so.

Which made it the logical choice to investigate given that Dimitri had both time _and_ stamina to spare.

One thing was certain: ascending the Tower was _much_ easier without the need to prepare to fight on one of the most irritating battle locations known to mankind. There weren't any bodies. No blood trickling down the time worn stone or stench from the bowels of the dead as they released. Byleth listens as they climb and catches the sounds of workers repairing the monastery and the fainter voices of people laughing or the Knights of Seiros on patrol.

Once again, the contrast between the evening sunlight filtering into the room and the dark shadows that littered the area struck them. As before, Dimitri hid in the shadows with his head low and his back against the wall. Byleth walked forward, eyes narrowing slight against the bright light on the pale stone, and stopped- as they had during their reunion- a couple paces away.

Dimitri's head lifts, skin absent from bloodstains and wounds sustained in battle, to look at them. His eye flicks up, settles on the bandage wrapped around their head, and then to the ugly bruise on their face. He stiffens and averts his gaze in a matter of seconds. His spear is ever present and his gloved hand tightens its grip. He can't bring himself to apologize and Byleth knows it by the flash of temper that comes and goes the way a bug plucked from the surface of the water by a fish does.

"You're awake."

Byleth nods once and makes an effort to offer an expression that would put the man more at ease. Facial expressions, even with Sothis' guidance in the past, are still difficult and take a conscious effort. This time Byleth doesn't offer a hand or reach out for the prince. Instead he walks forward and eases down next to the taller warrior. It's a childhood habit to sit with their knees up to their chin and Byleth looks out at what Dimitri can see; some of the damaged spires of the monastery, the sky as the sun set, and a lot of emptiness.

It's a good place to brood alone or to go where there would be little risk of accidentally hurting someone.

"Professor, I-" Dimitri begins and falls silent just as quickly.

Byleth waits to see if he speaks again, and when he doesn't, leans over and drops their head against the other man's arm and shoulder. The contact makes Dimitri freeze in place but he doesn't move or shove them away and _that_ is progress in and of itself. It would be nice to hear Dimitri's voice again, and would be even better if he would speak of what had transpired, to let them back in the way he had as a student five years for now, if this was all they could do for their wayward student? It wasn't much to sit down for a little while and look at the same scenery from his perspective.

"It's quiet." Byleth says softly and leaves it at that.

Dimitri doesn't say a word, but something in his mood shifts to something a little more at ease and that will have to suffice.


End file.
